A somewhat snarky look at life…

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A few weeks ago, on one of the days that A was at work with me due to his thingie, one of my co-workers came in late.

To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t even noticed he was late (bad boss!!) so I gave it no thought.

V: I’m sorry I’m late. There was an incident.

Me: You’re late?

V: Yeah, it’s like 10 after.

Me: Oh. Okay. Want some hot chocolate? (I don’t actually think that’s what I said, but it was something totally inane like that. Cause honestly, I didn’t care he was late.)

V: No. So what happened was, when I was heading to the car to come to work I saw this puppy. It came charging up to me like “Hey, help!” But I was already late, so I just brought him with me.

At this point he pulls out this TINY little chihuahua that looks like a boxer mix. Cutest. Freaking. Puppy. EVAR.

Me: OMG SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (Dogs all over the city heard this noise. True story.)

A: Awwwwww.

V: Yeah, this is why I didn’t want to show you. Don’t get attached!

Me: I shall call him Squishy! And he shall be mine!!

A: (grabs puppy and snuggles) He’s so cute!

Puppy: *wiggle, lick, nibble, cuddle*

At this point both A and I are total goners. Probably more me, tbh. I’m a sucker for small, cuddly, baby animals. Kittens more so than puppies, but ya know. I can’t work/volunteer in animal shelters for this reason. I’d come home with every damn furbaby in the place.

ANYWAY! I immediately claim the puppy as my own (but really he’s A’s puppy, for reasons) and drag him off to my office with a dish of water, a bunch of newspaper in a box, and a mister who is totally in love with the puppy breath.

V still insists that we must search out the puppy’s family. Not only did I say that if the puppy had family, they have proved to be poor puppy parents, but @JessaRusso and @callmebecks backed me up on this. (I love these ladies!)

After about an hour or so, I had to run A over to his thingie and V took the puppy. For the rest of the day, I was not allowed near the puppy, lest I grow too attached.

*snort* Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t even know me at all. A and I had already picked out the puppy’s name after like 10 minutes.

His name is Oedipus Rex. Rex for short. There’s a reason for this. I swear it.

A suggested we name the puppy after a mythical or superhero character who had been abandonated as a baby and left to die in the wild. I thought this was a fabulous idea and we settled on Rex right away.

V, the rat bastard, took the puppy home with him, because A agreed that we should find the puppy’s totally irresponsible and awful family.

*pout*

Shortened version. After a few days V gave up on finding the puppy’s family and said we could have him.

SQUEEEEEEEE

Now I have a tiny marauder that sounds, I shit you not, like a whole herd of rhinos when he runs through the bedroom during puppy play time.

Rex has settled into his new home quite comfortably.

Except the cats…

I have three of them. They all have very different reactions to Rex.

The big fatty: Mom. Seriously. What the hell is this? Is it food? If it’s food why the f*** is it MOVING??? My food doesn’t MOVE! It’s damn noisy for a snack. I think you may have screwed up the whole food concept here, Mom.

New Year’s Eve! Although we can’t really ring in 2013 without Dick Clark. I’m pretty sure that it won’t be the same. So the Mayans were sort of right, right?

I mean, if we can’t call it 2013 (which we can’t without Dick Clark there to officially proclaim it), then it’s close enough to being the end of the world 😉 You don’t have to agree, just let me have it.

People do that whole resolutions thing about this time of the year. I try, from time to time, but let’s face it. I don’t stick to that stuff. Mostly cause my goals are nebulous and unrealistic. Besides. I’m perfect!

Yeah, I can own it.

But I do have things I want to accomplish in 2013. So after many years of refusing to set myself year long goals that I know I won’t stick to, I’m sticking my toes in again.

So here we go!

1) I will walk no less than four days a week, anywhere from 2.5 to 5 miles.

I know that this seems like a very specific sort of thing, but it’s way better for me than “exercise”. Because the word exercise is yucky. Even thinking about it makes me think of about a hundred other things I could be doing than getting sweaty and out of breath. Not to mention the fact that I know full well what I look like when I try to “exercise”. So thank you, but no. We’ll go walkies.

2) I will write, daily, for at least an hour.

Blogging and twitter totally don’t count. Cause if Twitter counted, I’d be freaking Stephen King by now. Since I clearly am not, I should probably focus on the real writing, huh?

3) I will finish the rough draft of my novel by the end of June.

That gives me six more months to finish that nonsense. Which is good, cause what I’ve already written really needs some adjusting.

4) Play more video games!

Well it doesn’t really have to be more video games… Mostly just have more fun. Unwind more. I know it’s hard to believe, but I can sometimes get a little uptight and too wrapped up in details. I stress. So remembering to let go and loosen up a bit now and then is a good thing!

That’s it, really. Four things that I am fairly certain I can accomplish. Winning the lottery and stalking Chris Evans can wait for another year. Baby steps people. I mean if the lottery and Chris Evans happen to fall into my lap this year, I won’t complain or anything.

At my current day job, we do a secret santa thing every year. I picked our receptionist. We call her my work daughter, she’s just about 18 in a week or so. She’s funny and silly and at times, she’s dingy.

I got some pretty good news today that I’m super excited about.

So, it started out with that.

D: I’m so excited. I’m crossing my fingers, my toes, everything!

Me: Me too! *I then unzip my hoodie to show her my Tinkerbell shirt*

D: *wide eyes* OMG! You can cross your boobs?!?!

Me: No, dork. I was showing you my shirt. My boobies are not floppy enough to cross!

(Btw, this is not embellished. This was how the conversation actually went. I don’t need to make things up with this girl for comedy purposes!)

Me: Oh! Before you open the doors and get ready for the food share, I need you to check your email.

D: Why? What did I do?

Me: Nothing, silly. I just need you to check your email.

D: *scared look*

Me: It’s okay! I wouldn’t fire you through email.

D: Oh god.

We chose secret santas a couple of weeks ago, and I got her. Which made shopping super easy, since I know this young woman like she’s my own daughter. But I have issue with secrets. I’m terrible at keeping the kind that involve gifts. I can’t NOT tell someone if I got them something I’m really excited about and think they’ll be happy with. I also can’t stand not knowing what I got. I used to be one of those unwrap in secret and rewrap gifts people. Actually, I still would be if A wouldn’t hide shit so well.

Anyway. I asked D who she’d gotten and of course, trusting darling that she is, she told me.

Then she asked me who I got. Pft. Right. Not that it wasn’t hard to keep it a secret, but I totally did. So she wandered out of my office feeling cheated and even though people suggested to her that maybe it was because SHE was my secret santa, she didn’t believe it. Why? Because she knew that I would have told her.

So she checked her email.

And of course, there was nothing there yet.

ARUGH.

D: Omg. You were my secret santa, weren’t you?!!

Me: Yep!

D: Omg, I had no idea!! And S even told me it was probably you!

I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt. Fortunately, she laughed too, so it’s all good!

Today is a sad day for all of us. Take a few minutes to think about the good in life and hug someone you love and who makes you smile. And pass along a smile to someone else.

I have this bff. We’ve known each other long enough that our friendship is old enough to drink.

One of our little rituals involves my drive to work (which is godawfully long and a pain in my hinie, I’ll explain why another day). I spend a lot of time in the car, so I listen to music. Specifically Jack FM, which plays just music so I don’t get bored listening to some ninny blather about stuff I couldn’t possibly care less about. (Poor grammar FTW!)

So, I text her a line or two of a song and she sings back.

The other day I texted her this:

“You spin me right round baby, right round, like a record baby, right round, round, round!”

AE: You just sang the whole song. I have nothing to add but “ditto”!

me: That’s okay. You can just think of *****.com! (No, I won’t link it here. It’s NSFW. I find it insanely hilarious. If you MUST know, email me.)

Please note at this juncture that I was not intentionally breaking my friend. I just can’t hear the song without thinking of the website. So I shared, assuming that she’d already seen it. I was so very wrong.

AE: I just clicked on that. OMFG!!!

me: hahahahahahahahahahahaahahhaahaha

AE: I threw up a little in my mouth.

me: Bahahahahahahahahahaha

AE: I’m in a serious meeting, too. Thanks a LOT.

me: (laughing out loud in the bank and getting funny looks) Oh god. Can’t breathe. I may die. So worth it.

I’m sure she wishes that there were such a think as brain bleach and that she had some. I need to figure out how to invent it. Cause seriously, there are some things you just can’t unsee.

Proof that I am not all ceiling cat: I may have shared said website with many, many of my friends.

Should you choose to email me wanting the URL, please be forewarned. When I say NSFW, I truly mean it 🙂

I swear. Like a lot. I try to be better about it, especially since I have a child and people around me usually have children with them.

I mean, it’s okay if I teach my kid to say naughty words (which I don’t! The ex does that, thankyousomuch.) but it really isn’t cool to teach other peoples’ kids to call bad drivers colorful names that impugn their parents’ lack of blood ties.

So really, most of my conversations can’t be repeated here verbatim.

But here are a couple from today that were sort of entertaining. Meaning that I look dumb, which is always funny.

Between me and A, the bff from high school:

me: In other news, I applied for a job as a probation officer.

A: … Oh. My.

me: You’re scared now, aren’t you?

A: A little, yeah.

me: Come on, it’d be AWESOME. I’d get paid to be snarky! Like: Stop dressing like a hooker, seriously. No one will believe you aren’t. Also, get a haircut and drink some water!

A: Yeah, I probably should do those things.

me: Not you! In fact, I’d try to turn them all into versions of you!

A: Bibbity Bobbity *poof* Mini A’s

me: Exactly! I’d have an army of yous with which to take over the world! mwahahahahaha. Also, sign first then make copies. Don’t print 50 and then sign.

A: HA! That’s funny.

Discussing wedding things with K:

K: Ohohoh!

me: What?!?!

K: I fired the string trio!

me: Oh they wouldn’t learn the song? Bastards (only for bastards read a somewhat harsher word that I promise I’ll never say in front of your child). So, iPod then?

K: They just never would email me back. And yes!

me: Awesome! Now you can spend that money on something better. Like getting your own bridesmaids dress for going out in.

K: Exactly! Cause I saved like $500…

me: By switching my car insurance to GEICO!

K: hahahahahaha

me: Sorry, couldn’t resist.

K: No, I walked right into it. Well played!

me: Thank you, thank you.

On a side note, I’m really not kidding. If you have to print out a butt-ton of please send us money/food donations for our Thanksgiving/Christmas baskets letters, print one. Sign it. Make copies. Signing a ton of copies makes your hand cramp and your signature starts to morph into this weird serial killer looking thing.